


Lord of Horses

by RADarlinge



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, lotr - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Healing, Love, Original Character - Freeform, PTSD, allusions to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RADarlinge/pseuds/RADarlinge
Summary: Eömer returns to Meduseld to find a newcomer. One who is scarred, mentally as well as physically.





	Lord of Horses

**Author's Note:**

> Currently, there is only one chapter to this fic. This work is unfinished. Originally written in 2014.

Eomer shifted in his saddle, the ride had been longer today as they pushed for home. He could see his beloved home on the horizon now and urged Firefoot into a tired gallop. He wanted to be within the halls by nightfall, and while he could see Meduseld in the distance, the miles were many. 

His body ached. They had seen action on the westfold, the orc raiders had fought fiercely but with not much discipline. He had been lucky, coming through the skirmish with only one laceration on his thigh. It pained him, but he had tied it closed with a scrap of fabric. Eowyn would tend it when he arrived home.

He thought of the few who would not be coming back to the Golden Hall. Part of him was thankful the three who had died were wifeless. There would be no children without fathers. Well no legitimate children. 

He turned his thoughts to happier matters. It would be another squad’s turn to ride the Mark for the next few weeks. He would be able to rest and heal before he was called to patrol again. Firefoot pricked his ears forward, picking up his pace even more, having scented home for himself.

He looked to the heights to see Eowyn watching them approach. She stood still, the wind pulling her hair until it flagged like the banners of the hall. Her hair seemed darker than normal, but he figured it was the fact he had been gone for a while. 

He shifted again in the saddle, his thigh twinging in protest. He looked down to see a darkening stain on his breeches. He looked up, only a league left, he would wait. 

His eyes were again drawn to the figure on the heights. Only now there were two slim forms standing watch. One taller and one shorter. He realized the one he had originally seen had not been Eowyn. He wondered at who the second could be.

They rode into the city as the last rays of sun stained the sky red and gold. Firefoot knew the way so Eomer gave him his head. The pain was increasing and he could feel the blood flowing down into his boot. 

As they arrived at the stable, a small boy ran forward to take Firefoot’s head. Eomer slid out of the saddle gingerly, groaning and stumbling as he hit the ground. Theodred came alongside him, “Come on, let’s get you up to the hall cousin. That leg needs tending.”

Eomer only grunted as he leaned heavily on his older cousin. “God I need a beer.”

Theodred laughed, “That I think that can be arranged. If I can get it to you before Eowyn sees me.”

Eomer sighed, “Doubtful cousin. Very doubtful. With us hobbling toward the doors, she will see and be upon us…” He never finished the sentence as the doors opened and the lady herself was there, rushing forward.

“Eomer!” She caught him on his other side trying to support him and see what was wrong at the same time.

“Eowyn, it is just a cut on my leg. I am not dying. Just hurts like crazy and opened as we arrived home.” She made a noise in her throat but otherwise remained silent as she and Theodred helped him into the hall.

Eowyn called out, “You there, come help Lord Eomer to his rooms.”

The guard came forward as Eomer protested, “I want something to eat and drink woman. It is only a little wound.”

Eowyn looked at the guard and Theodred, “To his rooms. I will see he has food and drink.” 

Theodred and the guard turned amidst Eomer’s protests moving down the hall toward Eomer’s suite. Theodred whispered, “Just let her do her thing. You can come back out when she sees it is but a little thing.”

Eomer groaned, “I am not a child.”

Theodred laughed, “That will not keep her from fussing.”

They entered the dark suite and moved to drop Eomer in the chair next to the fire place. The guard left, but Theodred stayed, laying on a fire in the cold fireplace. Once the wood had caught he stood, “I will save a place at the table for you. Get cleaned up and I will see you in a while.” 

Eomer grunted in reply as he began removing his boots. Eowyn came through the door, bowl cloths and a bag over her shoulder. Theodred closed the door behind him.

“What happened?” Eowyn asked as Eomer removed his helm, placing it on the table. 

He stood, stifling a groan as he did. “I wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid an orcish blade. It really isn’t that bad, but it is annoying.” He unbuckled his belt letting it fall to the floor. 

Eowyn moved to help him remove the bulk of his armor as he balanced on his good leg. “Well we shall see how bad it is in a minute. What you think isn’t bad is usually quite nasty to the rest of humanity.” 

He chuckled as he began unlacing his breeches. He pulled them down over his hips and sat back in the chair. “All right, do your worst sister mine.”  
He leaned back, closing his eyes. He clenched his jaw as she cut his makeshift bandage so she could remove his breeches the rest of the way. He heard her sharp hiss of sympathy as she looked at the wound. It was long and jagged, but it was relatively shallow. 

She poured water into the basin and dipped a rag into it. She knelt next to him. She began talking as she cleaned the dirt and debris from the cut.

“We have had an interesting time of it while you were gone.” He hissed as the cut stung. Eowyn continued, “Late one afternoon about two days after you rode out, a horse came ambling into our walls. Across his back was a lady of some refinement. She was severely injured having clearly escaped some mortal peril on the animal. At some point she must have passed out, but the horse kept going. Against all odds he ended up bringing her here. She calls him Roheryn and he is hers completely. She says he found her on the shores of the Anduin, she doesn’t know where exactly. Her name is Maerwen. She is such a sweet thing. Poor thing is terrified of men. She refuses to say where she is from or to talk about what was done to her before she came here, but Eomer… Her wounds… it looked as if someone had set dogs on her. I would say she is about my age, but she says she just wants to start out fresh. She begged Uncle to allow her to stay here. Uncle is quite smitten with her, almost as if she was a long-lost daughter. Eomer it’s so strange her arrival here… You will see. The only man she has not fled from in terror is Uncle. He lets her sit at his feet. It’s the only way she can be out with all the men in the hall. It’s like she knows that he will protect her.” 

Eomer cracked an eye to look down at his sister. She had finished her cleaning and was now threading the dreaded needle, “Does it really need the needle Eowyn?”

She looked up at him, “It would please me to see it closed so it may heal easier. Otherwise you will have to have twice daily poultice changes which I know you hate.”

He sighed, “You could have brought me a beer at least.” He said as he leaned back.

She chuckled, “You can go get one of your own once we are done here. Did you not hear a word I said before? I wanted to warn you so that you are not surprised and don’t frighten the poor thing more than she already is.”

Eomer opened his eyes again, “Was she the one I saw standing with you on the heights?” 

Eowyn nodded, “That was her. She saw you and your men approaching and once you hit the city walls she retreated to Uncle. The only time she leaves the hall is to go visit that horse of hers. There is something strange about her. Not bad… there isn’t an evil bone in her body.” Eowyn paused, then continued, “Ok grab onto the chair. I will try to hurry.” 

Eomer clutched the chair, groaning as she sewed the edges of the cut closed. She was fast and she was good, but it didn’t stop the pain. He was panting when she finally snipped the thread.  
“I am sorry brother mine. I will put the salve on it and the pain will recede now.” 

He didn’t say anything, just slowed his breathing as she smeared the pain-relieving salve on the newly sewn flesh. He felt her gently bandaging it. 

He sighed deeply as the pain receded. “Why can’t you put that salve on before you sew?” He asked standing up. He walked stiffly over to the wash basin.

She gathered her supplies, “Because it actually would burn an open wound like you have my dear brother.” 

He grunted pulling off his shirt. He poured water into the basin and began to wash. 

“I will see you in the hall. I’ve missed you.”

He turned, “I’ve missed you too sister.” She left him to wash.

Eomer stood in the shadows, observing. He did not enter the great hall just yet. He had had time to think about what his sister had told him. He wanted to see the girl for himself, without her noticing him. 

He looked to his Uncle’s throne. The great man sat upon it. Laughing at some joke or antic of the warriors who ate and drank a short way away from him. Sure enough, sitting at his feet was a woman. She was hiding in the shadows of the throne. A narrow hand against the King’s calf. Theoden leaned down to say something to her before sitting back up, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair. Theoden called for a servant. The woman pressed into the throne as the man came forward. 

Eomer watched, his heart contracting hard at the sight of her fear. Eowyn knew he would be gentle, it was not in his nature to frighten any other than the enemy of Rohan. Perhaps this is why she had told him about the girl. He moved slightly, trying to get a better look while still staying out of sight. 

It was however enough movement for Theodred to notice him, “Eomer! Come! We have meat and beer!”

Eomer limped into the hall, his thigh tight. Theoden stood, stepping of the dais to greet him. The woman slid back so she was almost hidden by the throne. “Eomer! It is good to see you my son! You were not hurt badly?”

Eomer laughed, “No, just a scratch, but it is most annoying. Eowyn has tended it. Now, I would like to tend the rest of me.”

Theoden clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Then we must see to you. Food? Drink?” 

Eomer walked to where Theodred and the others sat eating. He sat next to his cousin, “I am famished.”

A plate was set in front of him, piled high with thick slices of meat, potatoes and carrots. Another of his men tossed a roll at him which he caught deftly. Theoden brought a full mug of beer placing it next to his elbow as he began to devour the food. 

He finished the first plate, sopping up the last of the meat juices with his roll. His eyes were drawn to where his uncle sat talking quietly with the woman. He popped the last of his bread in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully as he got his first good look at the girl. She was smaller than Eowyn. He recognized the gown she wore as one of Eowyn’s. It hung in places, not fitting quite correctly. He felt a spurt of sudden irritation. She was still in ill-fitting garments? He knew Eowyn and the ladies of this hall were fast enough when it came to fitting Eowyn. Why had their guest not been given the same courtesy? 

He stood, picking up his mug, draining it. His movement brought her eyes to his. Blue as the summer sky they were and just now, wide with fear. She pressed into Theoden’s leg as the King talked to her in soothing tones. “Maerwen, you are safe. Eomer is my nephew. I look on him as a son. He would never harm you. Even the shyest of foals come to his hand. You are as safe with him as you are with myself. If ever you need someone and I cannot be found, Eomer is whom you should seek.” 

She looked from the King back to Eomer, some of the fear lessened but by no means gone. Eomer walked calmly to the keg to refill his beer and then back to sit at the table. He quietly watched the men in their fun as he ate another plate of food. He laughed a few times at their antics but he did not join in. If his uncle was setting him up to play protector to the lady, he needed to be at his absolute gentlest. 

He sighed, he could understand the choice. It was the truth; he was one who for some reason could gentle the shyest of foals. He had been able to do so since he was young. It didn’t mean it didn’t rankle him a little. It meant he would have to be on his best behavior. He almost half wished he could be back on the Mark, where he could… he shook himself. He was being selfish, this woman for whatever reason had been damaged to the extreme. He could only guess at what had been done to her, and the thought made his anger boil. 

He glanced over to where she sat. She was watching him, her heart shaped face half hidden in shadow. She was lovely, smooth skin, except for a red scar that ran down the side of her face from the corner of her right eye to her jawline. His heart clenched in his chest, who could have done such a thing to her. 

He tried to tell himself the flutters in his belly were a natural response to a wounded person. He tried to tell himself the feeling of intense protection he felt for her was the same as he would feel for any woman here in Rohan. In the back of his mind though, there was a vision, of holding her in his arms, caressing her hair… a flash of bodies moving together in the grip of passion. He blinked, smiling to himself.

He looked back to see her rising from where she sat. He held his breath, in full light she was even more beautiful than she had seemed in the shadows of the throne. He saw with momentary despair there were several other scars, three as if talons had raked down from her shoulder across her chest. The most disturbing though, was the one encircling her neck.

His uncle rose then, offering her his arm, which she immediately took. Theoden walked forward, Maerwen on his arm, “I bid you all good night.” The men shouted their allegiance to the King causing Maerwen to shudder, shrinking from the noise. 

Eomer had to give her credit, she didn’t run, though he could see she wanted to. He nodded to his Uncle and then to Maerwen. She looked at him for a long moment before nodding her head almost imperceptibly. Theoden smiled at his nephew and then led her from the hall.

Eomer sat, not really listening to the men any more. The girl and her fear plagued him. He decided he needed to find his sister once more. To get as much information from her as he could before he approached the girl.

He rose to leave the table but Theodred stopped him, “Retiring so soon cousin?” 

Eomer turned, “No I was going to see my sister.”

Theodred’s face clouded with concern, “Your leg is paining you? Are you certain the blade was not poisoned?”

Eomer began laughing, “My leg is fine. I would just spend time with my sister. I have not seen her for some time and would inquire as to how she is doing.”

Theodred relaxed, “Off with you then whelp. Run to the tender mercies of your sister.” 

Reaching out swiftly, Eomer smacked his cousin hard on the back of the head. Theodred howled with laughter as he returned to his cup and companions.

Eomer walked down the hall toward his sister’s rooms. He slowed as he heard voices coming from behind her door. Eowyn was not alone. He went to move past to his own room but heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Theoden told me to trust him. That he would protect me.” The voice was soft, melodic, sweet.

Eowyn answered the unspoken question, “Eomer would protect you. He, you should trust above all others. Eomer has protected me all these years. He has one of the kindest hearts that I know.”

The voice replied, “Your uncle tires of me I think. I can’t help it. I want to be stronger, but…”

Eomer heard movement as his sister crossed the room, “Maerwen, uncle doesn’t tire of you. He is trying to help you the only way he knows how. To increase the circle of people you feel comfortable with. Uncle adores you. Come now.” 

Eomer froze, he had moved to stand right outside her door so he could hear clearly and now they were coming to the door. He tried to limp out of the way fast enough but knew he wasn’t going to make it, so he put on a pained face as the door swung open.

“OH!” Ewoyn exclaimed as she saw Eomer standing a few feet away from her door. Maerwen who had been right behind her, disappeared from sight.

“Eowyn, my leg. I was wondering if you could check it before I retire?” He acted as if he didn’t know she had company, walking toward the open door.

Eowyn looked at him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed, “I just fixed you. What could you have done to… oh all right come in. Sit in the chair over there.”

Eomer exaggerated his limp as he entered the room. Not looking left or right until he heard the whimper and turned, seeing Maerwen pressed into the wall behind the door. 

Eowyn closed the door looking at her, “Maerwen, I promise, Eomer will not hurt you. Uncle said as well. Come I will show you how to treat a wound.” 

Maerwen looked at Ewoyn, her eyes wild before she took a deep breath. She looked past Eowyn to where Eomer moved unsteadily to the chair. He didn’t look at her as he lowered himself into the seat. He winced as he slid his leg out in front of him. 

Eowyn went to the cabinet she kept in the corner of her rooms. She took a pot from within and then grabbed a stack of cloths. “Maerwen, could you please pour some water in that pot over there and swing it into the fire?” 

Maerwen started and then with a determined look on her face she did as Eowyn has requested, though she gave him a wide berth as she came around to the fire. He kept his eyes almost closed, observing her through his lashes. Eowyn came to his side, placing the towels and pot on the table.

She nudged him, “You’re going to have to drop your breeches brother dear.”

He cracked an eye to look at her, “Are you ready for me? I don’t want to freeze while I am waiting.”

She swatted his arm, “Well, I suppose you can wait a moment or two longer since we are waiting on the water. Did you twist wrong or something? I can’t imagine why it would be plaguing you enough for you to…” She stopped, looking at him through narrowed eyes. 

He leaned back in the chair, eyes closed against her scrutiny. There was a noise near the fireplace as water was poured into a bowl. 

Without thinking he stood, reaching for the laces of his breeches. His eyes flew open at the shriek and sound of crockery breaking. Maerwen flew back from him. She had been bringing the bowl of water to Eowyn, before his thoughtless act had her fleeing to the opposite side of the fireplace. She cowered down next to it, shaking. Hiding her face with her arms. Eowyn swore softly under her breath.

Eomer decided this would not do. He sighed moving slowly to the fireplace, then knelt, groaning as the cut on his leg popped a few stitches. He didn’t care, his entire focus was on the quivering girl. 

He spoke low, in the soft voice he used on the baby horses he tamed, “Maerwen. Little Maerwen. I am nothing to fear. I will never hurt you. I could never hurt you. I am here to protect you. Maerwen, it is ok. It is safe. YOU are safe, here, with me.” He moved slowly, closer, repeating himself over and over, his voice barely above a whisper.

When she first heard his voice, she whimpered, shrinking into herself. But the longer he sat, just talking, never touching he could see her begin to relax. He moved until he was within arm’s reach. He didn’t know how long he spoke. He was sweating from not only the fire to his left, slowly roasting him but also the pain and stickiness he felt on his right. He sat, waiting. 

He knew this could take all night, he prayed his knees could hold out. He hadn’t heard Eowyn in a while and wondered where his sister was, but dared not take his eyes from Maerwen. Her shaking had stopped, and she was listening to him. He saw movement, as her head came up from her arms slowly. He kept speaking the same words he had spoken to her, not changing anything about them.

This was the trickiest stage to gentling a horse and he hoped it was the same for humans. He had never tried this on another person before, but it seemed to be having the same effect. 

Finally, he saw her face, as she looked into his, he smiled, “There she is, and what a beautiful face you have Maerwen. Would you care to get up off this hard floor?” 

He turned his hand palm up in his lap, slowly. Her eyes went to it, but before she could react it had stopped. He left it there, palm up, inviting her, but not reaching out. She stared at it, then her eyes returned to his. He repeated his earlier statements once again, reassuring her he would never hurt her, that she was safe.

She moved, slowly, her small hand came away from her body, to reach toward his, still lying calmly in his lap. Her eyes were wide and fearful, but she reached anyway, waiting for whatever bad thing ran through her head to happen. She stopped half way, her eyes finding his, searching. He saw in them her hope he was indeed safe, that she wanted to trust him and his heart soared. There was hope. 

He didn’t move, didn’t speak with anything but his eyes. He tried to put everything he had said into his eyes. She moved again, reaching the last few inches to lay her hand in his. It took all his will not to close his fingers right away. 

He spoke instead, “I am going to close my fingers to hold your hand. Then we can get up off this floor.”

He made to stand, not thinking about the cut, in the movement he had used so often before. There was a searing pain as the stitches popped. His hand closed convulsively on hers and he cried out as pain lanced through him. He fell back onto his knees hard and then forward, into Maerwen. She cried out, but not out of fear. Her voice held only surprise and concern. 

She reacted to the sound of his pain, her voice soft, “Do not move. Eowyn! Help me!”

Eowyn who had been sitting quietly in her chair waiting for Eomer to work his “magic” was instantly next to her brother.

He moaned, “I think I have undone all your work, sister.” His words were behind clenched teeth.

To Eowyn’s surprise it was Maerwen who helped him sit up, and then stood supportively as he climbed to his feet. She was the one he leaned on to get to the chair. She was the one who kept a steadying hand on him while he cursed at the laces of his breeches. She finally pushed his hands out of the way, undoing the knotted loops herself. 

He pushed his breeches down and fell into the chair with a groaned oath. Eowyn put new water on the fire before going to her brother. 

Maerwen moved around the chair to stand behind Eomer, smoothing his hair from his face. She watched Eowyn peel his breeches away from the wound, which he had indeed torn open. It now looked even worse than it had earlier. Maerwen made a small noise of despair at the sight of it. Eomer lifted a hand up to where she stood. She placed her hand in his. He squeezed it as he sat, eyes closed, his breathing short and quick with pain.

Maerwen spoke softly, “Eomer, I must get the water. I will return to you.” He released her hand.

Eowyn smiled, he had done it. She had witnessed him once with a starved, beaten animal do the same. The horse still came willingly to him, though he had been in pasture for several years. She didn’t know what to call it, but it was to her a form of magic. He had in only a few hours, managed to convince Maerwyn he was not going to hurt her, but she seemed to have responded on a whole different level as well. It was going to be amusing to watch what developed between them. 

Maerwen was back with the water, she lay the bowl down and looked at Eowyn, “Show me what to do?”

Eowyn smiled, “You need to clean it, then we can remove the stitches. Do you want to try?”

Maerwen nodded, picking up a towel. Eomer opened his eyes watching as she gently washed the blood away from the wound. Her hand was as gentle as Eowyn’s, possibly even more gentle. 

He knew his face grew soft as he watched her. He suppressed the urge to reach out… to caress her face. Eowyn came into view and his eyes met hers. She was smiling. He sat back in the chair, trying to look levelly at her.

She rolled her eyes and bent next to Maerwen, “Good job, now we have to remove the stitches from his skin. Do you want me to do this part?”

Eomer watched as Maerwen looked at the wound and then visibly shaking she said, “No, I will do it. Show me how please.”

Eowyn was a patient teacher. Maerwen was soon snipping and pulling the thread from the jagged edges of the wound. Eowyn watched her for a few moments then straightened to look at Eomer. He met her eyes, giving in to a small smile. He then winced and drew in a sharp breath. 

Maerwen froze looking up at him, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean…” 

He didn’t let her finish but slowly reached out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers, “It will hurt no matter who does this. You have done nothing wrong. Go back to your work. The sooner you finish; the sooner my pain will lessen.”

She turned immediately to continue working. Eowyn wanted to jig, she was beginning to realize this woman, who was so hurt and a stranger to them all was just what her brother needed. Maerwen finished and took another cloth, cleaning the wound once again with great care.

Eowyn looked over her handiwork exclaiming, “Maerwen, you did wonderful work here. Now, since we cannot sew this shut again, we will have to apply a poultice to his leg. Here is the herbal preparation. Fill the cut with it.”

Maerwen opened the pot, bringing it to her nose. She wrinkled it slightly, but must have decided it was alright because she began gently applying it to the wound. This was where Eowyn and she differed. Eowyn who had been treating ailments for years, just slathered it on and wrapped it up. Maerwen was careful and soft. She filled the wound and then applied a thin layer to the ragged, raw edges of the wound before accepting the pad Eowyn offered her. Then she began wrapping the bandage around his thigh. 

Even with the pain, Eomer felt her fingers on his skin like little brands. Electricity shot through him with her soft and delicate touch. He willed his body to not react. The last thing he wanted was an erection with his pants down in front of his sister. He did find once he was bandaged, he wanted her to leave her hands on him. She withdrew however and stood to wash her hands in the basin. 

Once she was done she returned to his side. She looked down into his face, “I didn’t hurt you too much did I?”

He smiled reaching for her hand. She gave it to him, “You did as good as my sister. She is the only one I allow to tend me, though now, I would trust you as well.”

Maerwen smiled shyly blushing. He sat forward in the chair, looking down at his breeches. He didn’t want to pull them back into place with the blood on them. He looked at Eowyn, “Sister mine, I would ask a favor?”

She came to him, “Anything brother.”

He grinned, “I do not want to soil the bandage with my blood. Would you summon a servant to get help me to my rooms?”

Maerwen stepped forward, “I will help you my Lord. I know where your rooms are.” Eomer looked at her, then to Eowyn, the silent war he waged showing clearly on his features.

“That would be most helpful.” Eowyn said with a secret smile playing on the corners of her mouth.

Maerwen bent, helping him remove his boots. She then helped removed the soiled breeches. Laying them over her arm, she picked up the boots holding them in one hand. She then turned so he could lean on her. 

He looked again at Eowyn, unsure if this was the right action. Getting no help from that arena, he shook his head and stood. Placing as little weight on her as possible. 

They moved toward the door.  
Eowyn spoke then, “Maerwen, he will need a special tea to help him sleep. Here are the herbs, make him a cup before you leave him. The bandage will have to be changed in the morning as well. It will be twice a day until it has closed.”

Eomer groaned, but said nothing more as Maerwen led him through the door, his hand on her shoulder.

They moved slowly down the hall, Maerwen’s steps slow, allowing Eomer to hobble next to her with ease. They reached the door leading into Eomer’s chambers. Before he could, Maerwen caught the latch, opening the door for them to enter. Eomer looked down on her. She seemed so fragile. Her slight frame a mere waif compared to Eowyn. He again wondered what had happened to her, the scar on her face even redder in the firelight. 

She helped him sit in his favorite chair, propping his leg on a stool before moving to pour water into the kettle. She was silent as he observed her. She moved with efficiency and grace.

“What happened to you, little one?” His voice was quiet, as he tried not to scare her. 

She froze, hands stilling over the mug she had been adding the herbs to. “Pain.” She said, looking up into his eyes.

His were filled with sorrow, “How did you come to such a pass? Why did your men not protect you?”

She smiled, “I had no men to protect me, my lord. I was alone. I do not remember the time before the pain.”

She turned to the fire, deftly pulling the kettle from the flames. She wrapped her hand in the sleeve of her gown, taking the kettle from its hook. He was silent, watching her as she poured the steaming water over the herbs. She set the kettle down, keeping her back to him.

He sighed, “I am sorry. I want to know you. I want to know how to help you.”

She didn’t move. He saw she was shaking, “You already have.”

He wanted to go to her. To take her in his arms, soothe the shivers from her. He held himself in check. She would not allow that. It could even ruin the beginning he had won. 

He almost didn’t hear her sigh, “You would not think kindly of me, if I told you the story.”

He leaned forward, “How could I not think kindly of you.”

She turned then, and he saw the fear in her eyes, “Because I have done things… horrible things.”

Eomer leaned forward, taking the cup from the table. Blowing on the steam, “I too have done horrible things. I have run my blade through many a foe. Watched with glee the light of life leave their eyes as I ran my sword deep within their heart.” He took a sip of the tea, and made a face. “God… does my sister only know how to make vile brews?”

Maerwen moved, taking a small jar of honey from her pocket. Taking the mug from his hands, she poured a generous dollop into the hot liquid. She stirred it, then handed it back to him, “I hope this improves the taste, my lord.”

He smiled at her, “You need not call me that little one. I am Eomer.”

She stepped back to the fire, “The last thing I remember was waking in the dark. I was bound, laying on my side.”

Eomer leaned back in his chair again, sipping the sweetened tea. It wasn’t as bad now, but the bitterness lingered on the tongue even with the honey. He wouldn’t say a word though. If he spoke, she would stop. 

“I don’t know how long I lay there before hands pulled me roughly to my feet. They took me into a chamber.” Her voice took on a detached quality. “They did things to my body… cut, stretched… there was one… tall and beautiful in his wickedness. He took my body… over and over, pairing pain with pleasure until I craved his touch.” Tears splashed down onto her hands. 

She held them in front of her, clasped, knuckles white. “When he tired of me… I was taken to another room. Here they told me I would be made into his Queen. The knives again came, but terror filled me and I fought. I slew them, I do not know how, but then he was there… his hands claw like raking down my flesh, filling me with his essence again… yet this time, he took a garrote… I woke, in a pile of bodies, most unrecognizable. I waited for nightfall, then took clothing from the bodies. I snuck away from the dead, into marshes filled with even more dead. Men, Elves, Orc all lay silent under the water. They called to me. I wanted to go to them, but I pushed on until I left it behind. That is when I fell, weeping to the ground, my wounds too much to bear. I crawled to the river there, washing the filth from my skin. I slept then only to see things in my dreams. Things that woke me screaming into the night sky. I haven’t slept much since then. I don’t want to see…” She turned to the fire again, silent.

Eomer considered her. She was waiting for him to condemn her, “I hear nothing for which I would find fault in you.”

She turned her head slightly, “But I… I…”  
Eomer knew what she was trying to say. His heart broke. He couldn’t stay away from her. He rose moving gingerly to place a hand on her shoulder. She shrank away, but didn’t run. 

He gently turned her to face him, “You… did… nothing… wrong. If I heard you right, you were in Minas Morgul. Anything you felt was the evil power of that place. Anything you did was to survive.” She tried to turn away, he held her firm, “You are strong, beautiful and strong Maerwen. To survive what you have, I have only respect for you.”

She turned back, looking into his face, searching it, “How can you say that to me? I am not beautiful. I am a wreck of what I once was.”

Eomer chuckled softly, chucking her gently under her chin, “I could prove it to you.” He cocked his head, “Nay, you are not ready for that.” He went back to his chair. Groaning as he sat.

She was instantly there, “I am careless. See? I would harm one who is so kind.”

Eomer took her hands, “Maerwen, this blasted cut is going to pain me. It is my fault for getting in the way of an orcish blade, not yours.” 

She fussed never the less and Eomer lost himself in the sudden fantasy that came into his mind. He could see her here, in this chamber, waiting for him to come home. Soothing his ills, loving his body, giving him heirs. 

She gently smoothed his hair, recalling him to the present. He looked at her, her hair gleaming in the firelight. How had she bewitched him? He knew she would spurn his advances. She did not want a lover. She who had been so… anger welled within him. He would tend her as she now tended him. He prayed he had it within him to right the wrongs done to her.

His eyes grew heavy as the herbs took hold. He slipped into slumber, not noticing when she placed a blanket over him.

He woke sometime later, groggy and disoriented. He went to move, groaning as he moved his leg. Suddenly she was there, “What do you need?” Her gentle hands pushing him down.

He rubbed his face, “The necessary.”

She stopped, pulling back immediately, “Oh.”

He chuckled, “Why don’t you see if you can  
fetch me something to eat?”

She was gone without another word. He stood, hobbling to the privy pot. She had stayed with him all night. His heart felt light until he remembered her words… she didn’t sleep… He went to claim clean clothing. Stripping to the skin. He washed quickly in the basin, shivering as the cold water hit his skin. 

He heard the door open, turning to see her enter, carrying a tray. Their eyes met. Then her eyes travelled down the length of him, taking him in. She turned carrying the tray to the table, giving him her back.

Eomer smiled. He had seen the flicker of desire in her eyes as she had looked at him. He dressed in all but his breeches. Walking back over to the chair he sat. 

She said nothing, but began preparing water, laying out the supplies to change his poultice. He began eating as she knelt cutting the bandage gently. He sucked in his breath as she peeled back the poultice. 

He felt her hands still, “It is alright little one. Keep going.”

She said nothing but did his bidding. He looked at the cut. It was angry, his actions had not helped things it would seem. He gritted his teeth as she washed the wound with warm water. She spread the herbal salve onto the wound, covering it with a new pad. She wrapped the bandage tightly around his thigh, tying it securely. She stood, washing her hands in the basin. She then picked up the dirty water heading for the door. 

Eomer panicked, thinking she would not return, “You will come back?” 

She paused, she had not said a word since returning with his food. He longed to hear her voice. Yet she didn’t speak, just nodded before leaving the room. 

He picked up a piece of bread, sopping up the gravy on his plate. He leaned back, his hand resting on the bandage she had applied. He knew he was falling for her. He wished the feeling away from him. He had sworn to take no wife until after his duty to his King was complete. He did not want to be the cause of distress to another every time he rode out to the mark. There was darkness growing in the land. Eomer felt it pressing down on them. He feared for his home, and his King and Uncle.

He pulled his breeches on, but decided against boots. He fed the fire, building it up so that it gave off warmth. Warmth to combat the chill that had entered his heart. He stood in front of it staring into the flames.

Maerwen opened the door quietly. Eomer was standing at the fire. She studied him for a long moment. He was so handsome. She never would have believed she could feel desire again after what HE had done to her. She shuddered as the memories of those vile hands on her entered her mind. She had been helpless against his ardor. She had ended up begging him to fill her. Ended up writhing in passion beneath his horrible but beautiful body. 

She whimpered as the scene took hold. The beast, so beautiful standing before her, his member jutting out from his loins as he his eyes feasted upon her naked bleeding form. He had come to her… his hands, claws that left tears in her flesh wherever he touched her. He spoke to her, in a language she couldn’t understand, yet her body responded to his touch. 

She had listened to his vile speech, quivering with need for the beast. Her mind pulled her further in, her body responding to the memory. She cried out, slumping toward the floor.

Eomer whirled around when she whimpered. He moved slowly toward her, seeing she was in the grip of something he could not see. Lost in her own mind. He lunged forward to catch her as she cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure. He scooped her into his arms as she writhed against him, her moans low and pathetic. 

He lay her on the bed, pulling a stool over, he sat. Stretching his bad leg out. He tried to soothe her, tried to bring her back, but she was too deep into the memory. He took her trembling hand. It clutched his, holding it as if to a lifeline. He sat, watching, listening, feeling utterly helpless to stop the torture she endured.  
He just held her hand, waiting for it to stop. Finally, she stilled, going completely limp her breathing shallow. The only thing signaling she was still alive was the death grip she had on his hand. He wanted to go get Eowyn. To bring her here to see if Maerwen was ok, but she held on to his hand in such a manner he couldn’t leave her. 

So he sat, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He leaned forward laying his head on his other arm as he waited. And fell asleep.

Maerwen opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light. Tears sprang to her eyes, spilling over to run into her hair as the shame of what she had done and felt washed over her. Turning her head, she saw Eomer, his eyes closed, head nestled in his arm. His other hand in hers. The feel of it solid, warm and real. He looked so peaceful. 

Instinctively she reached out, her fingertips brushing the stubble on his cheek. His eyes opened, meeting hers. He didn’t move as her fingers explored his face, up his cheek, around to his forehead and down his nose to caress his lips. She said nothing, but shifted her hand to link her fingers with his. 

He lifted his head, his thumb resuming the caress of her hand. She took a shuddering breath as the tears came. She curled onto her side, pulling her hand from his, rolling away from him to curl into a ball. He decided then, rising, he climbed into the bed next to her.

He lay on his side behind her, stroking her hair gently. “I want to help you Maerwen. I want to hold you and never let anything else ever hurt you.”

Her sobs increased as she tried to form words, “I…m… ru…ruined… No… man should want me… I… I… have… been…” She didn’t finish as the sobs tore his heart from his chest. 

He rolled her over to face him, his hand going to her cheek, “I want you. I want to protect you. I want to hold you.”

She shook with sobs as he gathered her to him. Clutching his shirt, she buried her face in his chest. He wrapped her in his arms as her storm broke over him. He held her through the worst of it and beyond. Her body relaxed, her hand opened to lay on his chest. He looked at it. It was slender with long fingers. Her nails were short, he wondered if they had been ragged when she had arrived here. 

He tried to imagine what she had looked like coming from the dungeons of Minas Morgul. He shifted her carefully so he could look at her face. The scar on her face was newly healed, as was the one on her throat. They had been deep, that much he could tell. He would have to ask Eowyn.

Maerwen’s even breathing told him she was sleeping. Remembering what she had told him, he was loathe to wake her. Soon he found himself following her into sleep.

He woke, his senses picking up movement in his room. Maerwen still slept pressed against him. He slipped his hand beneath his pillow, grasping the knife that lived there, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw his uncle standing at the foot of the bed.

“I had worried about you Eomer.” Theoden whispered, “But I see you had a reason to stay in your chamber through the day and into the night.”

Eomer relaxed looking at Maerwen who still slept soundly. He spoke low, hoping it would not wake her. “Aye Uncle. The little one needed to purge the vileness within her.” 

Theoden’s eyes went to the sleeping woman, “She told you what happened to her?”

Eomer nodded, “She was prisoner at Minas Morgul. What she had gone through…” His arm tightened reflexively around her. She stirred slightly. “Shhhhh. I am here, there is nothing to fear. I will protect you. Sleep little one, sleep.” He stroked her hair until she stilled. He looked at Theoden, “She told me she does not sleep much. She had a lot to make up for. I do not know how long it will be, but I will not leave her.”

Theoden smiled, “Take as much time as you need. I have nothing pressing. Heal her mind and heart if you can. There is something about her. She is so fragile, yet I feel a strength within her. You should watch her with that demon of a horse she called her own. The beast was fine as long as we were taking care of her, but the moment she wasn’t in his sight… He will let no one near.”

Eomer looked at her sleeping form, “I know there is hidden strength within her. I will have to tell you what I know later Uncle. Let’s just say, she has been through the worst hell imaginable.”

Theoden’s face was grave, “I had surmised as much, by the way she reacted to things. She is not the first rape victim I have seen in all my long years.”

Eomer met his uncle’s eyes, “It was far worse than just rape.”

Theoden swore softly. “Eomer, I leave her in you charge. She will heal or not by your hand.”

Eomer grimaced, “Why me Uncle?”

Theoden chuckled, “Can’t you see for yourself? She has chosen you. She did not shy from my hand, but she did not willingly come to it.”

Eomer sighed, “I do not think I will come out of this intact.”

Theoden turned toward the door chuckling, “It is long past time for you to choose a mate. If I am right about her, she will make you a fine one.” He didn’t give Eomer a chance to reply as he closed the door.


End file.
